Advancement
by Slivering
Summary: Sometimes, even Echizen Ryoma felt insecure. [MomoRyo]


Title: Advancement

Word Count: 2,533

* * *

**ADVANCEMENT**

* * *

Echizen Ryoma heard the telephone ring once, twice, and thrice – but made no move to get up. The comfort of his bed was too sweet to let up, and the 13-year old snuggled further down into his duvet. It was only his first week back from America, and he already felt at home. After he won the US Open, he had practically become a famous icon – his manager set him up for interview after interview, tournament after tournament, meeting after meeting.

By the time he had returned to Japan, he had been both mentally and physically exhausted; which was why he couldn't be bothered to answer another fan call.

"Oi, Seishounen," his father burst in through the bedroom door, phone in his hand. "This damned phone won't stop ringing. Answer it already, won't you?"

Ryoma moaned under his breath, and curled against his pillow. "Just ignore it," he pleaded his father. The only response he got was the phone thwacking against his blankets and the stomping of Nanjiroh disappearing out of the room. Ryoma tried desperately to shut his eyes and get some sleep, but the phone kept beeping relentlessly in his ear.

"Unngh," Ryoma forced his body upwards. He grabbed the phone and shoved it to his ear. "Hello?"

"…Echizen! You won't _believe_what I read in the Sports Magazine today."

"Momo-senpai, I'm trying to sleep."

"You'll be wide awake when you hear _this._Or, actually read this. You're not the only one who's famous anymore!"

Ryoma scowled to himself, wondering what his boyfriend was going on about now. He flopped back down onto his bed, phone pressed between his shoulder and cheek. "I'm hanging up now," he explained. Momoshiro huffed on the other end, "No, Echizen, this is important." _What could be more important than me getting my beauty sleep?_Ryoma thought, and his eyelids weighed down in agreement.

"Bye, Momo-senpai."

"No, Echizen-"

Ryoma threw the phone onto the end of his bed and buried himself under the covers. As he slept peacefully unaware, it never occurred to him that maybe Momoshiro actually had something important to say.

**=][=**

The computer screen made Ryoma want to throw up.

His fingers shook as he scrolled down the page, and each image made the knots in his stomach twist tighter. It was a clear, doubtless photo of him and Momoshiro pressed against a park bench with their mouths against each other. _Oh, fuck,_Ryoma thought. Picture after picture displayed their intricate make out session.

Momoshiro leaned over Ryoma's shoulder. "See? I told you, I'm famous now too! Dating the youngest tennis pro in history."

Ryoma minimized the tab. "These pictures are everywhere?"

"_Everywhere,_" Momoshiro nodded eagerly.

The smaller boy stared at the computer screen blankly, before standing up and stumbling towards his bedroom. When Momoshiro asked where he was going, he said he needed more sleep, and then slammed the door shut behind him. The knots in his stomach had yet to go away, and even as he slipped back under his covers, the twisting loops stayed firmly placed.

As he lay there, trying to grasp what this would mean, the door creaked open slightly. Momoshiro poked his head into the doorway.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Ryoma pulled his knees to his chest, and stared at the bed embroidery. "Everyone will know I'm gay."

The smile on Momoshiro's face melted. The happy purple eyes distorted. "So?" he asked fiercely. Ryoma glanced up, and guilt throbbed at his heart when he saw how hurt Momoshiro looked. Ryoma shrugged slightly, and returned his gaze to the bed. "I just don't want people to know yet. My old man will find out too, probably. So will everyone else."

"By everyone else, you mean…our old team?" Momoshiro asked, anger hidden in his tone.

Ryoma sighed wearily. "Momo-senpai, I just-"

"You're ashamed of me," Momoshiro interrupted, and his violet eyes blared under the sunlight. "You_are_, aren't you? This must be why you always act too afraid to do anything in public. I can't believe it. You're ashamed of me. Because I'm ordinary Momoshiro, and you need someone better than that."

"I never said that."

Momoshiro's face dropped. "But you didn't deny it, either."

Before Ryoma could say another word, the older male slipped out of the room. The sound of thumping footsteps echoed in the house until an eerie quietness settled into place. Ryoma shut his eyes and collapsed back onto the bed – he wasn't ashamed of Momoshiro, was he? He curled a little tighter. He just didn't want everyone knowing he was gay.

**=][=**

When Ryoma opened his inbox that morning, he had about fifty million fan mails. One third of the fan mails consisted of love-struck girls crying and sobbing their hearts out. The other third consisted of people calling him expected names – queer, fag, etc. The last bit of fanmail were people who thought it was _so_cute that he was dating Momoshiro. Ryoma grumpily deleted them all without replying. After that, he went downstairs to get some breakfast.

His father ate on the chair across from him. "Yo, Seishounen, I heard some rumours goin' on about you."

Ryoma stared at his omelet.

Nanjiroh munched hungrily on his own, brown eyes speculating. "You know, there's nothing wrong with it," he said after a moment. Almost immediately, he backtracked. "Of course, I wouldn't be able to get any cute ladies coming over. Really kid, is this what you've got to give your old man after all he's done for you?"

"I'm not gay," Ryoma snapped, surprising himself.

Nanjiroh paused. His gaze flickered knowingly.

Omelet untouched, Ryoma pushed in his chair and lugged himself to the front yard. As he sank into the lawn chair, he once again wished that they hadn't been caught kissing like that. He didn't want people to know. He didn't want to be gay. Why couldn't he just be normal? Momoshiro's hurt face flashed in his mind. But he liked Momoshiro, didn't he?

Ryoma's gaze wandered to the front doorsteps where a stack of mail lay. He could see the Sports Edition that arrived every month innocently peeked from under the rubber band. Ryoma picked it up and looked at the front cover, where he and Momoshiro's kissing picture stood out brightly. He glared at the picture, before crumpling the magazine up and throwing it in the garbage.

He wanted the moment to vanish away.

**=][=**

Ryoma stirred his cold mocha absentmindedly in the café. Momoshiro wouldn't speak to him, or even look at him, and his absence was starting to make Ryoma's heart ache. He stabbed the straw in his drink, and glared out at the window. Why couldn't he be normal? Even with his head ducked low, he could feel the curious stares of some of the store goers.

He was the youngest tennis pro in history. Of course people would want to know more.

"You look like you're having fun."

Ryoma glanced up, slightly startled. He frowned. "Fuji-senpai."

The prodigy slipped into the chair across from him. "Where's Momo?"

"I don't know," Ryoma said, harsher than he had intended to. He sighed, bit his lip, and looked towards the window. Fuji observed him from the corner of his eyes, sunny smile present on his face, his nimble fingers grabbing the menu from the table. As he flipped through the pages, not really reading, Ryoma turned his gaze on him.

"Hey, Fuji-senpai," Ryoma said tentatively. "You and buchou…are an item, right?"

"An item?" Fuji laughed lightly, placing the menu down. "I suppose you could say that."

Ryoma tapped his fingers against the table. "Do you…" he paused, trying to find the right words. "Do you like being gay?"

Fuji tilted his head, and the smile shone conceivably brighter. He pressed the reopened menu shut, and waved over a waiter. "I don't think that question really makes sense. I like Tezuka, not being gay. If I liked a girl, I would like the girl, not really the fact that I'm straight." he leaned in, and honey-brown strands fell over his eyes. "It doesn't even really matter in the end."

"But what about when you told people?" Ryoma asked quietly. He stirred his milk. "Did they act like you were weird?"

"Maybe some of them did," Fuji mused. "I never really cared enough to notice."

Ryoma sank the words in, and the guilt in his stomach pressed on harder. He didn't reply, and watched as the waiter took Fuji's order and scampered off to make an extra-large coffee. He felt a bit stupid for caring – he wasn't supposed to care, right? But it was just so weird. And he didn't like the public knowing everything.

"Is this about the magazine?" Fuji asked. "I saw the picture. You two seem very good together."

Ryoma pursed his lips, and he could feel an embarrassing blush form on his cheeks. Voice clipped, he replied, "It's not about the magazine. I just don't want everyone to know." He lifted his head to observe Fuji's reaction, and frowned when he saw that the smile had tensed somewhat. "What?" he asked, annoyed.

"Why don't you want people to know?"

Ryoma startled at the sharp tone. He stiffened. "I don't know. I don't like being gay."

"_Why?_" Fuji pressed.

"It's weird."

"Why's it weird?"

Ryoma scowled at the slaughter of questions, but his throat tightened at the question. He didn't really have an answer to that, and with a frown, he drank more of his milk to refrain from speaking. He could feel Fuji's gaze burning into his skull. The question flickered in his mind. Why did he find it so weird?

"Because the society thinks so?"

Ryoma blinked, and shrunk in the chair. He shrugged.

"Aren't you Echizen Ryoma?" the sunny smile returned. "I thought you're not supposed to care."

Ryoma glared at him, defensive walls springing up. He struggled to think of a comeback, and when nothing came in his exhausted mind, he stood up abruptly. Without saying a goodbye, he threw his empty milk cup in the garbage and headed towards the exit. Fuji stared after him, and just as he opened the door to leave, he called:

"Don't make Momo wait too long."

Ryoma just tried to feign the confidence that he didn't feel and walked straight out the door.

**=][=**

That night, when he came home, his father was watching television with a cigarette dangling off his lips. Even as Ryoma tried to sneak upstairs silently, he could feel the adamant gaze against his back. Sometimes, even though his father was the biggest idiot in the world, he seemed to know way beyond what Ryoma knew.

Ryoma hated that feeling – that his father actually had a sense of responsibility.

Locking the bedroom door, Ryoma headed straight for his bed. The warm blankets beckoned him, and in less than a second, he was slipping inside without having dinner. He lay in the bright room, tense muscles relaxing as the bed soaked up his remaining energy. For a while, he just stared at the ceiling wall and counted the dots, wondering when his life had turned upside down.

A few seconds after, Karupin snuggled up to his leg, and Ryoma repeated Fuji's words in his head.

"_I never really cared enough to notice."_

The words hit Ryoma hard, and a deep sense of shame overwhelmed him. What was he doing, being scared about people knowing his sexuality preference? It wasn't a big deal. So, he liked Momoshiro. So, he was gay. Fuji and Tezuka were too. He was hundred percent that Eiji and Oishi had a little something going. There was nothing wrong about it.

He stumbled off the bed and towards the telephone. Karupin whined in complaint, but Ryoma was too occupied, too focused to care about anything but calling his boyfriend. The conversation with Fuji whirled around in his brain, and he remembered the earlier morning when he had snapped at his father that he wasn't gay.

He had acted so childish about the whole thing. Ryoma glared at his own hand as it punched in Momoshiro's memorized number.

After a few rings, Momoshiro picked up. "Hey?"

"Momo-senpai," Ryoma said quietly.

Silence stormed on the other end. Ryoma fiddled with the cord, before straightening up. "Let's play tennis tomorrow. At the clay courts. Noon?" The words were almost rushed, and Ryoma's anxiety struck upwards. Without waiting for a reply, he hung up and hoped that Momoshiro would understand enough to come.

After all, Ryoma really was sorry.

**=][=**

Despite being ten minutes late, Ryoma was ecstatic when he saw Momoshiro walk in through the court fence. He felt like genuinely smiling, but he knew Momoshiro was still mad at him from the frown on his face, so he refrained from acting too happy. The power-player walked over to him slowly, looking every bit as miserable as Ryoma had been for the past few days.

When Momoshiro reached him, he stood still.

"Hi," Ryoma mumbled out.

"Hey," Momoshiro replied awkwardly.

There was a brief pause, in which Ryoma wondered what he was supposed to do. He had expected some sort of a conversation, but it appeared that wasn't going to happen. Clenching his fist, he ducked his head. He might as well jump to the apology. "I'm sorry," he said with a tight voice. He didn't dare look up. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

Momoshiro sighed loudly, and ran his fingers through his hair. "You know Echizen; I fell in love with a boy that was so blunt he said everything on his mind. The kind of boy who never gave a damn what others thought about him," Momoshiro knelt forward, and tilted Ryoma's frowning chin up slightly. "I'm not sure what happened to that boy."

Ryoma's lower lip trembled. "He got insecure."

"Exactly," Momoshiro said.

"But he's not anymore," Ryoma responded kind of softly. He pulled the brim of his cap down over his head. "He really isn't. He's back to normal."

Momoshiro didn't say anything, and Ryoma shifted on his feet, hoping he was forgiven. From the look on Momoshiro's face, it was unlikely. But then, just when Ryoma was about to open his mouth to say sorry once again, Momoshiro wrapped him in a tight hug. "It's okay," he whispered, pressing his nose into Ryoma's hair. "I can't stand eating burgers without you one more time."

"Heh," Ryoma snickered, and a smile lit up his entire face. The guilty knots unravelled into relaxation.

Glancing up, he could see Momoshiro grinning at him. "You know, someone could spot us in this compromising position. I think I see a camera over there," he joked teasingly, but Ryoma didn't move his eyes away from his boyfriend's, and stayed still in the arms wrapped around his body. He really, really didn't care anymore. He had forgotten how warm Momoshiro's hugs were.

"I don't care," Ryoma claimed, and just to prove his point, he went on his tippy toes and pressed his mouth against Momoshiro's. Momoshiro didn't hesitate in returning the kiss, and a feeling of contentment washed over the both of them.

Fuji was right – as usual. They _were _good together.


End file.
